


Physician, heal thyself

by TheMightyGhost



Series: Stories [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Blood, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Parenthood, Strangulation, Twins, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 19:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyGhost/pseuds/TheMightyGhost
Summary: Sigrid would do anything for her boys.





	Physician, heal thyself

He had her boys.

Thanos. That purple faced… bastard!

He had her boys. Her twin boys. He had Váli and Nari by the neck in each hand, holding them up as if they weighed nothing more than a speck of dust. Her boys. Her twin boys. He had her boys.

Sigrid had never felt so much anger before. She had never felt so utterly terrified. She had never felt the urge to kill somebody as much as she did right now. She wanted that mad purple bastard dead at her feet. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted to rip his intestines out and string him up with them.

Sigrid tuned out everybody else. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not the Avengers. Not the rest of Midgard. Not even her husband. Nothing mattered but the safety of her boys. She clenched her fists, golden light swirling around them, matching the burning gold of her blazing eyes. She made eye contact with the titan, and he had the sheer audacity to laugh!

She was moments away from acting when Thanos buckled, stumbling to his knees. He released Nari, who fell to the ground in a whimpering heap. A dagger protruded from out of the back of Thanos’ head, but it seemed to be a superficial wound at best. At least it had allowed Nari a chance to flee, and her youngest did; he ran towards his uncle Thor, just as Sigrid lunged towards the titan.

Kicking his arm, she summoned a golden sword and slashed it downwards, trying to sever the limb from his bulky mass. Váli screamed with difficulty, eyes bulging, snot and tears covering his red face. Sigrid aimed for the wrist, conjuring a dagger and slicing through the ligaments and bones. The titan thrashed, howling in furious outrage, attempting to pry her off.

The moment he released her son, Váli sprinted towards his uncle and brother, just as the titan’s grip found its way around Sigrid’s throat. Gasping, kicking desperately, Sigrid tried to pull his fingers away, but he had her in too strong a grip. He glared at her, spitting blood at her in disgust.

“Wretched woman. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“You should have… done a lot of things…” Sigrid wheezed. Her vision began to dim, the pressure on her neck becoming too much. Dimly, she heard screaming, followed by the sound of something hitting Thanos, the titan letting out a soft ‘oof!’ before teetering over onto his side.

Something snapped.

Sigrid was tossed aside, landing like an unwanted ragdoll in the dirt. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Tears dripped down into the soil. Blood poured freely from her ears and nose and eyes. Everything felt white. Blinding white pain. She couldn’t hear anything save for the ringing in her ears. Her vision was red.

Warmth spread outwards from her chest, seeping to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She closed her heavy eyelids, her breathing becoming a little easier. Burning, searing heat swelled around her neck, nearly forcing a scream out of her. But she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even move. She was stuck. Stuck. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Something snapped.

Sigrid sat bolt upright, blood still gushing over her face. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, feeling the flow beginning to ease. Her ears itched. Her eyes burned. She felt unwell. Queasy. Dizzy. Too warm. Her neck felt on fire. She didn’t dare touch it.

She was facing the titan’s back. He was giving some sort of speech. He seemed to like the sound of his own voice. Before him stood a gathering of bruised and battered Avengers. Her boys weren’t there. But Thor was there. And Loki. Loki was there. He was crying, being restrained by his brother and by Stark. Why was he crying? Was it the boys? The boys! Where were her boys?

Bones creaking, muscles twinging, Sigrid pushed herself onto her feet. Wobbling unsteadily, she spat out a globule of blood, cleared her throat, before hoarsely saying, “Where are my boys?”

Silence.

All eyes turned to her. Disbelief. Shock. Astonishment.

Thanos went wide eyed. “How…”

“Magic, bitch,” Sigrid wanted to say, because she knew it would make the twins laugh. If they were here. What if they were dead? She instead repeated, “Where are my boys?”

For once, the titan looked too stunned to speak or do anything. Sigrid used that as her opportunity to walk past him, feeling like a newborn fawn trying to learn how to walk again. She all but collapsed into Loki’s arms, wheezing and puffing and heaving. “Boys. Where are they? Where are they?!”

“Safe. They’re safe.”

“They were supposed to be safe before!” Sigrid shouted, sobbed, crimson tears trickling down her cheeks. “He could have killed them! You said they’d be safe! You promised me!”

Her knees gave way. He caught her, holding her close.

“Loki, get her out of here. Get the boys and go,” Stark said quietly.

Loki didn’t say a word in protest. Sigrid felt herself being lifted up into his arms, slumped like an exhausted princess against his chest. She could hear the sound of fighting, screaming, war cries. She drowned it all out. All that mattered was her boys. Her boys. Were they safe? What if they weren’t? What would she do?

Those thoughts ravaged her mind as she slipped finally into blissful unconsciousness.

They said the battle had been won.

Sigrid awoke to a brand new day and a brave new world. Everything hurt. Everything burned. She wanted to cry. So she cried. Her tears were laced with blood. Her ears still felt itchy. Her nose was aching. Her lips were cracked and dry. There was something wrapped around her neck, some sort of support. It made getting comfortable in bed difficult. It was a precaution, apparently. She knew she didn’t need it, so she removed it.

She was in the garden overlooking the lake, dressed in a cream silk robe she had borrowed from Pepper. Birds were chirping and singing. The wind was gently caressing her. She stared out over the lake, tears blurring her vision. Behind her, the rest of the Avengers were gathered for a celebratory barbecue. She didn’t want to participate. Everything hurt.

She was relieved, of course she was. Her boys were safe. Her husband was alive. Thanos was dead. But… she felt… out of sorts. She didn’t mention the truth. She didn’t tell them that she had, at least for a second or two, been dead on that battlefield. It was only because of the healing light seiðr she had inherited from her mother’s family that she was still alive. But it hurt. It hurt. It wasn’t pain relief. It wasn’t gentle and soothing. It was burning, agonising pain. And it hurt so much.

It was the curse of self-healing. When healing others, they were soothed and calmed. When the healer tried to soothe their own wounds, they ended up getting burned. It was a chronic pain, a pain she hadn’t felt since her hands had been broken three hundred years ago. Her hands had never been the same since; shaking at inopportune moments, a near-constant tremor that plagued her days and nights for years until she learned how to manage it with brewed tonics and potions.

Two small bodies pressed against her sides. Váli on her right, Nari on her left. She brought her arms around them both, not saying a word, just holding them close. Nari pressed a burger into her hand, the bun drenched in tomato ketchup, topped with cheese and lettuce. Váli handed her a plastic plate so she wouldn’t spill any over herself. She ate slowly, struggling to swallow. Váli handed her a bottle of water to help ease the flow of food traveling down her oesophagus.

She ate only half of the burger, the boys eating half each of the rest. She wiped her mouth and hands clean with the tissue, waiting until the boys had finished eating before slowly getting to her feet, using them as support. She slowly made her way back towards the large house, her heart beating faster the closer they drew to the gathered crowd. They were too noisy, too overwhelming, too much… it was too much.

Someone guided her to a chair, another person handing her a glass of water, somebody else bringing a blanket over her shoulders. Her hands were shaking too much to hold the glass of water steady. It was removed from her hold, replaced by two large cold hands that soothed her own.

She wasn’t aware of much for the rest of the barbecue. She only came back to herself when she was settled down on the bed, her boys nestled against her, her husband gently brushing and braiding her hair. She closed her eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop her. She felt at peace. With her boys. With her husband. The aching didn’t feel so bad with them around.

She drifted off surrounded by warmth, love, a smile lingering on her lips.

Nari was the first to know.

He had been resting with his head on her chest, above her heart. Loki’s little boy sat up slowly, tears welling in his bright blue eyes. “Daddy…”

Loki forced himself to remain calm and composed. He scooped Nari up in his arms and gave him a big kiss on the brow. “I know,” he said gently, running his hand down the little boy’s back, “I know.”

Váli, who had been half-asleep, stirred. He nuzzled into his mother’s side, smacking his lips sleepily. “Mummy,” he mumbled. He paused, sitting up a little. “Mummy?”

Loki choked on a sob when Váli started panicking.

“Mummy? Mummy! Mummy! MUMMY!”

“Shh, shh, shh…” Loki gently coaxed the boy into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “She’s resting, sweetling. We need to be quiet, yes? Mummy wouldn’t want us to start shouting, would she?”

“No…” Váli sniffled, unceremoniously wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He then reached out for his brother, who had been staring at his mother’s softly smiling face with silent tears running down his rosy cheeks. The twins held hands, both of them silent, contemplative.

“We love you, mummy,” Váli said after a moment or two.

“Sleep well, mummy,” Nari added. They kissed her cheeks.

Loki didn’t bother holding back his tears.

It was dusk.

The boat drifted further and further away from the shore, burning brightly, orange and red and yellow, smoke wafting upwards and drifting towards the nearby woods.

Loki, holding the hands of his boys, stood on the bank of the lake, staring at the burning funeral pyre. He knelt down on the grass, wrapping his arms around his sons. The three of them stared out over the water, watching the burning boat. Loki wished he was there with her. But he wouldn’t do that to his boys. They needed him more than ever. He had to be both their father and mother now. He would be better than Odin. He would be better than Frigga. He would be better.

For his boys.

Sigrid would have wanted that. She had given her life for her boys. The least he could do was be the best father, the best mother, the best parent possible.

For her.

For his Sigrid.

  
  



End file.
